A way to be in love. To be family.
Eva opened her eyes and looked at the snow globe in Gracie’s hands, the blue-and-silver snowflakes collecting around the ice skater’s feet as Gracie’s attention drifted back to the movie. Eva took it and set it back on the table, pushing it behind the lamp, out of sight.
She was too old to believe in fairytales now, even on Christmas.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“So basically, you fucked up,” Roscoe said.
“Seriously fucked up.” Henny downed a shot of something that smelled like cherry-flavored paint thinner and slapped Walker on the back.
“Really?” Walker asked. “That’s all you’ve got for me?”
They were sitting at the bar at an otherwise empty Wang’s Chinese Buffet, just about the only place open this late on Christmas Eve, helping Walker drown his sorrows. His little brothers were in town for the weekend, but he’d left them with Mom and her friends to wrap presents, and then ducked out, unable to face the holiday merriment of Wellshire Place.
His heart was fucking shredded.
It’d been three days since he’d broken up with Eva. Three days since he’d last tasted that sweet kiss, since he’d settled in between her silky thighs. His pillows still smelled like her. Everywhere he looked, he saw her face, that gorgeous red hair, the fiery eyes that had burned right through to his soul.
He wasn’t supposed to fall like this. Ever.
“You want us to sugarcoat it, sweetheart?” Henny asked. “You had a good thing with her. And you tossed her ass out over a job offer.”
Walker grunted. If only it were that fuckin’ simple. But what the hell did he know? He couldn’t even remember all the details of their fight, how it’d escalated so quickly. He knew she was taking the job. Knew she hadn’t told him about it. Knew he’d said some shitty things. Knew he’d made himself scarce that morning, hanging out in the weight room in the basement until he was sure she’d left.
The words themselves were gone; all that stuck in his memory were the scars they’d left behind and the sick feeling in the pit of his gut that he could’ve—should’ve—handled it differently.
“She’s leaving Buffalo in a few months,” he said. “For good. How’s that supposed to work?”
“You travel for work all year long. And it’s not like you don’t have the cash to hop a plane whenever you’re in the mood.” Henny shook his head. “Find another excuse, man, because Minnesota ain’t it.”
“Take your time,” Roscoe said, signaling the bartender for another round. “We’ve got all night.”
Walker downed the last of his whiskey, then leaned forward on his elbows, hanging his head. Henny was right. Lots of people made the long-distance thing work. And no, Minnesota wasn’t the real reason. Distance was an obstacle, not a deal-breaker.
It wasn’t even that she’d used him as her meal ticket, that she’d had this secret arrangement with his trainer. He’d totally overreacted to that. After all, it was just business.
It wasn’t the job. Yeah, would’ve been nice if she’d mentioned it earlier. But how could he be mad at her for trying to make her life better? Trying to carve out a little patch of happiness for her and her daughter?
No. The reason he let her go was a lot simpler than any of that.
“Because I’m fucking in love with her,” he admitted.
Henny and Roscoe laughed. They actually laughed.
“I’m glad my personal hell amuses you.” Walker reached for his fresh whiskey, tossed it back. “Sick bastards.”
“You’re in love with her,” Henny said, “so you broke it off?”
Roscoe held up his shot glass. “Sounds legit.”
“Yeah, well…” They had a point. It made no sense. He’d been so ready to bare his feelings, to put himself out there, and then he chickened out. Eva leaving town? That didn’t change how he felt. What the fuck was he thinking? That he could just toss her ass out, close the door on that all-too-brief chapter of his life, go back to running drills like they’d never met? “I love her. I don’t know what the fuck that makes me, but there it is.”
“Well,” Roscoe said, “considering it’s Christmas Eve, and you’re in a crappy Chinese restaurant professing your love to us instead of to your girl, I’d say it makes you a chump.”
“Gotta side with Roscoe on this one,” Henny said. Then, with a wink, “Despite the fact that we’re excellent company any time of year.”
“We do light up a room,” Roscoe agreed. He turned to Walker, clamped a hand over his shoulder. “Look at it this way. If you—”
“Save it,” Walker said. “I’m not in the mood for your Mr. Bright Side, sunshine-up-my-ass bullshit.”
Roscoe slammed his glass on the bar. “This isn’t the bright side talking here, dickwad. It’s the real side. You love her. Get your ass over there and apologize.”
“What if she slams the door in my face?”
“So?” Henny said. “What if?”
Walker shook his head. They didn’t understand. Hell, he didn’t even understand—not really. This wasn’t hockey, a game with rules and regulations, something you could learn and practice and get really good at. Walker was so far out of his depth here, so far out into space, he might as well be carrying Gracie’s lightsaber.
The thought of Gracie sent a fresh blade through his heart. Damn, he really liked that kid. Even Bilbo Baggins, that slobbering beast, had a place in Walker’s heart.
Without a word, Walker nodded goodbye to his friends, then dropped a wad of bills on the bar and headed out on his own. It was almost four in the damn morning, and he was in no condition to drive.
So he put one big boot in front of the other, and he walked.
The air was frigid and still, and overhead, the sky was clear, lit up by the reflection of the streetlights on the snow. The whole city was covered in the stuff, a thick white blanket that reminded Walker of being a kid, sitting by the TV in the morning during a storm, listening for the school closings so he could go to the rink at Delaware Park and skate.
He walked to the park now, alone on an ice white island, his thoughts roiling. Yeah, he owed Eva an apology. She’d at least been trying to reach out since that night, but Walker hadn’t even returned her texts.
The wind picked up, blowing snow off the banks that bordered the park. He thought of that first day on the farmer’s pond out in Colden, thought of the story Eva had told him earlier about why she’d stopped competing. Her words echoed through his head, so clear now he half expected to turn around and find her standing behind him, hands on her hips, eyes sparkling.
Sometimes you have to walk away from one thing so that you can be strong enough for something else. Something better.
There were lots of things Walker might be able to walk away from—things he might someday have to walk away from. But no matter how much he ached inside, no matter what he’d said in anger, Eva Bradshaw wasn’t one of them.
More than an apology, Walker owed her the truth. He needed to tell her how he felt about her.
She might slam the door in his face.
Or she might fall into his arms, hold on tight, and never let go.
Steeling himself against the icy air, he pulled his knit hat down over his ears, exited the park, and marched onward through the snow-covered streets toward Eva’s neighborhood. Toward his future.
Toward his woman.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bilbo Baggins’s deep, resounding bark reverberated through the small house, alerting Eva to the man’s presence a full minute before the knock came.
“Santa!” Gracie bolted down the stairs, still half-asleep but already keyed up with excitement. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and Eva’s eyes were puffy from a night of crying, but she couldn’t help but laugh at her daughter’s Christmas enthusiasm.
At least I’ve already had my coffee.
“Did Santa wake you up, too?” she asked, tugging on her fuzzy pink slippers. Her face was lined with
creases from the sheets, her red hair frizzing out around her head in an adorable halo.
“No, I’ve been up a while. “In truth, she hadn’t even gone to bed last night. She couldn’t; her dreams and thoughts were no longer hers, all of them taken over by the man who’d stolen her heart.
Eva was already so deep in another daydream about Walker that when Gracie wrenched open the front door and Eva saw him standing on her porch, shivering and red-faced from the bitter cold, she truly thought she was imagining him.
“Walker!” Gracie ran out onto the porch, her slippers leaving tiny footprints on the snow-dusted wood. She hugged Walker without reservation, and when he pulled off his gloves and put a gentle hand on her head, Eva wanted to cry.
He was real. And he was here, standing on her front porch on Christmas morning, his eyes never leaving Eva’s.
In his gaze she saw a thousand thoughts, a thousand memories, a thousand things he wanted to say. Things she’d wanted to say, too. Things she’d worried she’d never get the chance to tell him.
She opened her mouth, hoping the words would come, but Walker spoke first.
“Merry Christmas,” he said. “I’m in love with you. Can we talk?”
“I fucked up,” he said. “Bad. And I’ll charter a plane to Minnesota every damn day for a year if you’ll just give me a chance to fix this.”
Eva pulled her coat tight around her neck, fighting off the shivers wracking her body. She’d left Gracie in the house picking out Christmas CDs, and now she and Walker were outside on the front walkway, snow falling lightly, the houses on her street lighting up one by one as Christmas morning slowly dawned.
“I screwed up, too,” she said, but Walker held up his hands.
“Listen. Family’s forever, isn’t that what they say?” Walker asked. “But for me, it wasn’t. My dad was a world-class deadbeat—Mom never had a moment’s peace. I couldn’t count on him, couldn’t count on this idea of family that everyone else seemed to have. So I made hockey my sure thing. And for years, it worked. The ice never let me down. Never lied to me or broke a promise.”
Walker sniffed in the cold air, his cheeks and nose red. “When I got hurt… when they said I might never play again…” He closed his eyes, shaking his head as if the memory of that conversation were a living thing, a thing that could still reach out and choke him. But when he opened his eyes and spoke again, he was smiling. “Then you came barreling into my life, ordering me around, pushing me past my limits, and something changed. For the first time since the accident, I started to actually believe I could get my sure thing back. And somehow, in the middle of fighting on the ice, of skating for you, of learning from you, you became another sure thing. I fell in love with you, Eva.”
Eva’s heart hammered inside her coat, nervous and afraid, but full of hope, too. Full of warmth. And still, beneath all that, full of pain and regret, sadness for Walker, for what she knew was coming next.
“Then the bomb dropped,” he said. “You told me about the job, about this great opportunity, but all I heard was, ‘Sorry, Walker. I’m leaving. Just like your dad. Just like hockey. Just like everything you ever gave a shit about.’” Walker shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his boot heels. “I shouldn’t have put it on you like that, but I did. And I freaked.”
“I get it,” she said, closing her eyes against a blast of icy wind. Walker stepped forward, blocking her from its path. “And I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve told you about the job offer right away, but I didn’t know how.” Eva snuggled deeper inside her coat, looking up at him through lashes wet with tears and snow. “At first, I just didn’t want it to interfere with your progress. And then things got… heated… between us, and I worried about what would happen if McKellen found out—if it screwed up your training in any way.” She told him about the night at the hockey game, how she’d realized just how much was at stake. “I tried to keep things professional, but I couldn’t. Because no matter how much was at stake, no matter how much I kept telling myself to pull back, I… I was falling in love with you, too.” Then, in a whisper that made her heart ache, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, forty-six.”
“I know,” he said. “I was a complete tool about it, but I know. The job is important to you, Eva. And it should be. You’re fierce as hell. You don’t give up. Hell, you made me want to be better. Not just at hockey, but everything. It’s what you do. Not just for me, but for Gracie. For your students. For everyone. Of course McKellen wants you on his team—he’d be a fool not to.”
The wind died down, the world falling silent around them once again. Eva looked up at the sky, snowflakes drifting lazily toward Earth, catching on her hair, her face, her lips. For a moment everything was so peaceful, she wondered if she’d found her little snow globe after all.
“So what happens now?” she finally asked, lowering her gaze from the sky.
Walker’s eyes were startlingly bright. “The first time I watched you skate,” he said, “I was a goner. I’m in love with you, princess. I can’t promise I won’t ever fuck up, only that I won’t bail on you. That I won’t shut you out again. All I want now is to take care of you and Gracie. To protect you. To be your man. To let you kick my ass whenever I need it.” He laughed then, a sound that broke across the snowbound street like chiming silver bells. “I don’t care if you’re in Buffalo or Minnesota or frozen-ass Siberia. I know we can make this work, Eva. Just give me a chance.”
Despite the cold, Eva felt a rush of warmth deep inside, enveloping her from head to toe. A smile tugged at her lips as the butterflies returned to her stomach, swirling and buzzing, making her giddy. It had been so long since she’d felt this feeling, she could hardly remember the word for it.
But then it came, settling over her like a blanket.
Hope.
Eva raised a brow. “Let me kick your ass? Let’s get one thing straight, forty-six. I kick your ass when and how I feel like it.”
“I would expect nothing less, princess.” He stepped closer, swallowing her up in his strong, solid embrace.
Her body trembled in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.
They might’ve stayed out there all morning, their toes going numb, snow piling up on their heads, staring at each other like neither one of them could quite believe what had happened. But a voice chimed out from the front porch, loud and clear and completely impatient.
“Mama! Please can I open my presents now, please?”
Eva laughed. “Okay, honeybee. Just one more minute.”
“Can Walker help me?” Gracie asked, her sweet little face glowing with anticipation.
Eva turned back to Walker, cupping his cold cheek in her hand, stroking her thumb over the rough stubble. “Do you want to come in and warm up?”
“Yeah?” Walker asked.
Eva smiled. “Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
The words hung in the air between them, serious, weighted, and Eva knew he wasn’t just asking about helping Gracie with the gifts, about coming inside to shake off the chill.
He was asking about all of it. Them. Their future. Their second chance. Love.
“I’m sure,” she said. “Absolutely.”
He flashed a smile, and then it was gone, his lips meeting hers in a slow, soft kiss, melting against her mouth like the feathery soft snowflakes landing on her cheeks. And there, in that perfect snow globe moment beneath the twinkling Christmas dawn, Eva Bradshaw handed over her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
6 months later…
“Haul ass, forty-six! Move it, move it, move it!” From her spot in the players’ box, Eva shouted across the ice, tuning out the thunderous roar of the crowd, the slash of blades and sticks on the rink. Coach Gallagher was watching the goal zone, but with three seconds left in the game, her eyes were on the offense, on her men.
Eva curled her fingers into fists, her heart pounding with adrenaline. You’ve got this, boys. Come on, come on!
Converging at center ice, Walker snagged the puck from the Raptor offense, then passed it to Henny, who passed it to Roscoe, back to Henny, back to Walker, who cradled it like an egg on glass as they rushed toward the goal. Eva leaned forward, her heart about to burst out of her chest as the Raptor defense closed in on her man, but in the millisecond before they collided, Walker nudged the puck back to his right winger, and Henny whacked that baby right into the net.
The lights flashed like sirens, and the final buzzer signaled the end of the game.
Tempest 3, Raptors 2.
It was the third finals win for the Buffalo Tempest. One more win against the Raptors, and the Tempest would take home the Stanley Cup.
The crowd erupted, but Eva wasn’t paying attention to them. She and Gallagher ran out onto the rink, sliding into the sea of blue-and-silver jerseys celebrating on the ice.
Walker tore off his helmet and skated right up to her, his stormy gray eyes sparkling, sweat running down his face. He was still trying to catch his breath, but that didn’t stop him from planting a kiss on her mouth. Eva squirmed, his playoff beard tickling her lips. The whole team had them.
“I can’t wait for you guys to win the Cup so I can finally shave this animal off your face,” she teased, scratching it with her fingers.
Walker laughed. “Whatever you say, Coach Bradshaw.”
Coach Bradshaw. Five months into the job, and she was still getting used to the title. Still getting used to the fact that she’d found a way to make it happen, found a way to create her dream job right here at home.
On New Year’s Day, filled with the hope and energy of new beginnings, Eva had officially turned down McKellen’s offer and submitted a proposal to head coach Gallagher and the Tempest team management. One week of brutal negotiations later, she was signing a contract as a special coach, bought on board to teach the hockey boys how to skate.
Naughty Or Ice Page 18
